


The Pill

by Aurora_bee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Herbology, Love, M/M, Magic, Milk, Pets, Puppies, Romance, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John stumbles into a pet shop called Catland and Parrot, but it's not all it seems.</p><p>This is not related to the Puppy Tails series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pill

John ambled down Tottenham Court Road with his British bull dog, Gladstone. He was loath to go back to his flat at Baker Street, as Sherlock was in one of his ‘black’ moods. Gladstone stopped, sniffed then lifted his leg on a lamp post to mark his territory. John stood beside him and gazed almost unseeing across the road. His interest was piqued as he saw a shop he hadn’t noticed before, ‘Catland and Parrot’ pet supplies and herbal remedies. A smile spread across his lips as he noticed the pun.

“Come on Gladstone.” John called to the pup. “Let’s get you a treat.” Gladstone wagged his tail, and followed John as they made their way across the road and into the little shop.

John jumped as the door behind him slammed shut, and the bell clattered. The air was stale and smelled like old books. It must be the herbs, John thought to himself as he picked up a raw hide pigs ear.

“Can I help you?” A small wrinkled old lady asked from behind John. He turned and smiled at her.

“Just browsing if that’s ok.” John replied as the lady bent down and fed Gladstone a liver treat.

“Oh.” She said, speaking to Gladstone. “I see.” John rolled his eyes, somehow he always seemed to attract the mad ones.

“Your dog says he’s a bit agitated at the moment.” The lady said as she straightened back up to speak to John.

“Righty ho.” John replied, wondering what she was going to try and sell him. She placed her hand on his wrist and led him to the till.

“Now dear, don’t be so negative. I’m not going to try and sell you something. I’m going to give you something for him.” She said giving Gladstone a wink. John looked down at Gladstone, he was slobbering, his tongue lolling gently from side to side.

“I don’t think he’s agitated, he always does that.” John replied.

“Well be that as it may, these won’t hurt him. It’s a little concoction I make of oil of evening primrose, cloves, lavender and slippery elm bark powder.” The lady said as she handed John a pill bottle. John took off the lid and peered in at the two tablets.

“How much do I owe you then?” John asked, resigned to the fact he was going to humour the old woman. He put the pigs ear on the counter.

“Nothing for the pills, if it works you’ll be back for more.” The woman replied with a glint in her eye. “A pound for the pigs ear though.”

 

John wandered into the flat and sighed. The daily news papers were strewn around the living room, covering every possible surface. Resigning himself to an evening in, he moved the papers off his armchair and sat down. As usual he emptied the contents of his pockets onto the table next to him and sorted his spare change. Sherlock lay on the sofa humming and rhythmically kneading the arm with his long toes. 

“No new cases then.” John stated as he pocketed the change and picked up the sports page off the floor to read. Sherlock groaned dramatically in response and rubbed his temples.

“I need a case. My head’s going to explode.” Sherlock shouted. John sighed to himself again, and made the decision to go to the pub before Sherlock’s imminent tantrum.

“Right then." John said throwing the sports page onto the table beside him. "I’m off to the pub. Come on Gladstone.” He bent down and clipped the leash back on his collar.

“But I have a headache.” Sherlock whined sticking his bottom lip out and looking like a petulant child.

“Take an Aspirin then.” John shouted as he headed down the stairs.

 

Two hours, and four pints of larger later, John was back at the flat climbing the stairs to what he considered oblivion. He slowly opened the door to the living room and was pleasantly surprised to find the flat in one piece, paper still strewn on the floor, but no more bullet holes in the wall. Sherlock was laying on the sofa watching the television.

“Hello.” Sherlock said with a smile. John warily looked at Sherlock and noticed that his favourite James Bond film was playing.

“Oh Octopussy, my favourite one.” John waited for a reply, Sherlock said nothing, instead moving his feet so that John could share the sofa with him. “Thanks.” John said as he sat down and Sherlock put his feet on his lap. Sherlock hummed happily and returned his attention to the film. “You’re feeling better then?”

“You were right, I took an Aspirin and my head does feel much better.” Sherlock replied. 

“Excellent.” John said patting Sherlock’s foot. John started to watch the film, happy that he was actually able to relax and that Sherlock was calm for a change. Half way through the film he realised he was unconsciously rubbing Sherlock’s cold feet. 

“Are you cold Sherlock?” John asked.

“A bit.” Sherlock replied. “It’s not too bad.”

“You should have said. Come on, move your legs, I’ll get the blanket.” Sherlock brought his knees to his chest, John snatched the blanket from the back of his chair and flopped back down on the sofa.

“Thank you.” Sherlock said as he sat up and snuggled underneath the blanket. “Do you want to come under too?” 

“Why not.” John shrugged. “Saves on the heating bill.” Sherlock pulled the blanket up over John and relaxed against his side.

“I’m quite comfortable.” Sherlock mumbled as he rested his head on John’s shoulder.

“Just don’t stick your bony elbows in me.” John laughed.

 

John opened his eyes, the soft buzz of white noise coming from the television filling his ears. He looked at Sherlock’s head resting on his shoulder, his eyes closed in peaceful sleep, his long black lashes fanning out like butterflies on his cheeks. 

“Sherlock, wake up.” John whispered. Sherlock slowly woke and looked at John through bleary eyes. “You should go to bed, you’re going to get a crick in your neck.”

“Mmmph…” Sherlock replied. “I’m comfortable and you’re so warm.” John grinned and put his arm around Sherlock to encourage him up.

“Come on, up you go.” John said, before he found himself with a lapful of sleepy Sherlock, their mouths precariously close.

“Thank you.” Sherlock whispered before pressing his lips to John’s. As John automatically started to kiss back the pressure suddenly dissipated. “I had a nice evening.“ Sherlock said as he jumped up and disappeared to his bedroom. 

John sat quietly on the sofa in shock. He ran his finger over his lips and felt the ghost of a kiss still playing on them.

“I’m not gay.” John said to Gladstone who was looking at him drooling on the rug. “So don’t look at me like that.” Gladstone seemed to pant in response, his mouth turning up slightly in what looked like a grin.

 

John spent the morning putting the abandoned news papers into recycling bags and generally cleaning up Sherlock’s mess. It was if the previous night was some strange dream. Finally after scrubbing a suspicious stain off the rug he decided he deserved a cup of tea. John sank down into his armchair with his hot drink to survey his handy work. Gladstone rolled on the floor at his feet chewing the pig’s ear.

“You’ve been a good boy this morning.” John said as he bent down to stroke his pup. Gladstone’s tail wagged manically knocking something under his armchair and causing it to roll out. “What’s this then?” John said as he picked up what turned out to be the pill bottle from the previous day. He unscrewed the lid and peered inside, both of the tablets were gone.

“We need some more Aspirin John.” Sherlock said suddenly appearing as if from nowhere. John jumped as snapped his head around. 

“Ok, I’ll get some milk too.” John said nervously as he jumped up and put his coat on. “Come on boy.” He said as he dashed down the stairs with Gladstone trailing behind him.

“I didn’t mean now!” Sherlock called after him. 

 

“It worked then.” The little old lady said as John and Gladstone entered the shop.

“Uhm, slight problem.” John said sticking his hands into his pockets and shuffling his feet. “My flatmate took them.” 

“He was supposed to.” The lady said as she went into the back room.

“What?” John asked confused. The lady re-appeared with a brown paper envelope full of pills. 

“Gladstone told me he was agitated.” She replied. John’s eyes darted around the room.

“Is Sherlock playing a joke on me?” John asked annoyed. “Because kissing me like that really wasn’t funny.” The thought of Sherlock’s lips on his, and it not actually meaning anything caused his breath to catch in his throat. His stomach lurched and he suddenly felt dizzy. He gripped a nearby shelf to prevent his legs from giving way.

“Come now, young man.” The old lady said, taking his hands and leading him to a stool to sit down. “If you’re not careful, you’ll be needing to take those pills too.” She stroked his hands. “This is all a bit of a shock to you isn’t it.” John nodded. “Well you needn’t worry, he loves you.”

“How the hell do you know that?” John asked, his heart fluttering in his chest, the new realisation that he was in love with his best friend hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Gladstone told me. The little chap sees things you don’t.” The lady replied.

“You’re a very strange woman you know.” John grumbled as he stood.

“But you like me.” She replied with a cheeky grin.

“Yes I do.” John grinned, feeling elated at the prospect of being with Sherlock. “So two more tablets, and a raw hide pigs ear please.” 

“That’ll be a pound.” The little old lady replied with a wink.

“You can't do that, you must let me give you something.” John replied.

“Just invite me to the wedding, address the invite to Mrs Rutherford.” She replied.

“Well I don’t know about a wedding, I’ve only just realised that I love him myself. But I’m definitely going to invite you around for tea.” John said as he thought about giving Mrs Hudson an excuse to get out her best china.

 

“You forgot the milk.” Sherlock said as John walked through the door in the early evening. John had spent the day thinking about how to move forward, walking and eventually sitting outside a café on the Southbank.

“Sorry Sherlock.” John said re-zipping his coat. “I’ll go and get some now.”

“Did you forget the aspirin too, because I have a headache again.” Sherlock said spinning around to face him.

“No.” John said holding his hand out with two pills in it.

“Thank you.” Sherlock replied with relief as he dry swallowed the pills. “Would you like to get a take away, and watch a film. I rather enjoyed last night.” 

“Sure, Chinese ok?” John asked as he pulled out the take away menu.

“Fine, just don’t order yourself anything with too much garlic. I don’t like the taste.” Sherlock said as he browsed John’s DVD collection.

“But you won’t be eating it.” John grumbled.

“No I won’t.” Sherlock said with a wink. John gulped and dropped the menu. “You’d think you’d never been kissed before.”

 

Sherlock’s mouth was exactly as John had imagined, his lips were smooth like pearl, his tongue as dextrous as his fingers. John melted into the sofa as Sherlock gently rutted on top of him. 

“Why haven’t we done this before?” John said as Sherlock pulled away for breath.

“Because you’re not gay.” Sherlock sniggered.

“Oh yes, I forgot.” John replied with a smug grin.

“Come to bed.” Sherlock said. “This sofa is too narrow.” 

 

“I need some more tablets Mrs Rutherford.” John said as he entered the shop. Mrs Rutherford who was sitting behind the counter dutifully got up and got the brown paper envelope with the pills in.

“A pigs ear too?” She asked, as she carefully put the pills into a bottle.

“Yup and half a pound of bonio please.” John said grinning from ear to ear. “He deserves a treat.”

“I do hope you mean Gladstone and not your gentleman friend, young man.” She said with a warm smile.

“No Sherlock prefers animal crackers.” John said as he handed her a five pound note.

“I’m glad to see it’s going well. But remember don’t give the pills to him every night.” Mrs Rutherford instructed.

“Just when he has a headache.” John replied. “I promise.”

“Good boy. Now you must bring him in to see me sometime. He must be very special if you and Gladstone love him so very well.” John kissed her on the cheek.

“We have very good taste don’t we.” John replied.

 

“How’s your head tonight?” John asked as Sherlock folded the paper up and threw it on to the coffee table.

“Muzzy.” Sherlock replied frowning. 

“They’re in my coat pocket.” John said as he got up to make a cup of tea. Sherlock looked at his coat.

“Could you get them for me.” Sherlock asked, John rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Get them yourself you lazy sod… Oh bugger.” John said as he spilled the milk down his shirt. “Sort yourself out while I get a new shirt will you.” John said as he made his way to his bedroom on the second floor.

 

John was panting, the heat from the two naked bodies under the sheets was stifling. He lay on top of Sherlock and ran his hands up the sides of his body feeling the smooth curves he had always admired. Sherlock groaned in response, John kissed Sherlock’s plump bottom lip.

“You’re amazing Sherlock. Utterly fantastic.” John said looking into Sherlock’s aquamarine eyes.

“I know.” Sherlock said his lips twisting into a perfect smile. John laughed, and felt his body respond to Sherlock’s proximity.

“Looks like I’m game for another round.” John said kissing Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock rubbed his temple. “What’s the matter?”

“I said earlier, I have a headache.” Sherlock replied.

“Didn’t the tablets work?” John asked concerned. Sherlock looked away, and John’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t take them! Oh my god, how are you in bed with me?” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow and chuckled.

“What do those relaxant’s you keep telling me are Aspirin have to do with the fact I love you?” Sherlock asked. John’s jaw dropped again at the statement. 

“You knew?” John squeaked dumbfounded.

“I knew they weren’t Aspirin, they’re not the right colour.” Sherlock replied.

“And you took them anyway?” John said annoyed.

“After I had discovered what they were made of yes. I have never held up much hope for herbal remedies but they seem to do the trick.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. “It wasn’t the pills that made me do this.”

“I love you Sherlock.” John said as he kissed the only pair of lips he had ever really wanted.

 

“I want to introduce you to someone.” John said as he charged into ‘Catland and Parrot’ dragging Sherlock behind him. An old man stood behind the till.

“How can I help you sir, looking for a treat for the dog?” The man asked. John looked around.

“Is Mrs Rutherford here today?” He asked. The man shook his head.

“Sorry who?” He asked.

“Mrs Rutherford.” John said. “She was here yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.”

“I’m sorry sir but there’s only me, and my grandson.” He replied.

“Oh.” John said. “Uhm a pigs ear then please.” He said confused, Sherlock shrugged his shoulders.

“That’ll be two pound please.” The man said.

“Eh it was a quid yesterday.” John grumbled fishing the money out of his pocket.

“Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man that wasn’t there, he wasn’t there again today, I wish I wish he’d go away.” The man replied. John felt a shiver go up his spine.

“Thank you.” He said as he pulled Sherlock out of the door.

“That was strange. Do you need to see your therapist again.” Sherlock asked as they walked down the road.

“I’m not mad.” John snapped.

“Well if you are, it’s just how I like you.” Sherlock said as he swooped down and pecked Sherlock on the lips. John grinned in response.

“Come on let’s get the milk.” John said as he took Sherlock's hand.

 

The old man stood in the shop watching as John and Sherlock walked down the road. 

“Mrs Rutherford.” He called. “I think it’s time.” Mrs Rutherford walked in from the back room.

“Thank you Mr Stringer.” She said as she took his hand. “They do make a lovely couple don’t they.”

“They do indeed Mrs Rutherford.” Mr Stringer replied. “Shall we.” He asked as he gently spun her around. 

"I do love to dance." She replied. They gently waltzed together in the lazy evening sun, their imagines fading until all that was left was the dust in an old shop’s window.

**Author's Note:**

> Mrs Rutherford and Mrs Stringer are based on Margaret Rutherford and Stringer Davis her husband.
> 
> Here's a link to a pic of them:
> 
> http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/dame-margaret-rutherford/images/19828581/title/stringer-davis-margaret-rutherford-loving-husband-wife-photo
> 
> Margaret and Stringer I hope you're dancing wherever you are.


End file.
